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by the.silly.banana.muffin
Summary: Just a series of Cloud/Tifa-centric drabbles, not going in any specific chronological order. The rating may change from chapter, but for right now, I'm just going to go with T. Feel free to read and review, please! C:
1. Ribbons

So I decided that I was going to mix a little change into everything and make a series of drabbles (which is what this will eventually turn into). ^_^

I'm having a little writers block from a severe lack of time to day dream (although you would think that I would be doing plenty of it during school? Haha.) Almost all of these will be Cloud and Tifa-centric; although this first chapter here will focus more on the relationship between Tifa and Aerith as Tifa reflects on the day that Sephiroth had been defeated and the planet had been cured of the Geostigma. This entire chapter is from Tifa's POV.

I hope that you enjoy it-and of course and like always, you know that I love my reviews. So feel free to leave what you think! And if you've got constructive-criticism, let me hear it. :) I always like to hear what readers think. There's definitely going to be more chapters to come. But enough of me-to the story! c}:

Enjoy!

* * *

It wasn't _just_ something we used for protection.

It wasn't _just _something used to tell others that we were heroes.

It wasn't _just _something that we wore to make ourselves look fashionable .

It was used for us to remember.

We all wore that ribbon to remind ourselves of one another. To keep ourselves aware that we all had one another in such a changing world-that we as a whole would remain the same.

All of us had lost so much. We had all lost our homes at some point. Most of us had lost our families. At least one of us had lost an appendage. Perhaps, at one point or another, we had lost hope for something that we felt or cared so strongly for.

And I know that all of us had lost her.

We lost Aerith.

Our flower girl was gone.

Looking down at the two, lone maroon ribbons sitting on the table in front of me, I could feel the bittersweet sadness beginning to well within me.

That was the first time that I had cried since my father had died in Nibelheim. It had been almost seven years since that had happened; yet somehow I still knew how to mourn. Even after I had promised myself that I would never cry after that-even after I had taught myself to be strong, no matter what happened.

We had all loved her-_all _of us. Cloud, me, Barret, Cid, Yuffie-even Vincent; who had never said much to anybody about anything. But seeing the look on his face when he saw her body; slumped against the altar was an almost undeniable look of hatred and grief. Maybe the sight reminded him of Lucrecia-but that had never been my business and we let Vincent keep to himself about what had happened in his past.

And maybe it was knowing that we couldn't save her in time that destroyed us. We had lost a member of our family. It was like loosing a sister; a daughter to us. She was gone.

This was our way of remembering her. Sure-I suppose that we could have carried pictures with us everywhere; but pictures faded with time. And even with her in our memories; this reminded us to think about her and what she had done for us when we were too busy to do it ourselves.

People wore ribbons for protection, normally. But we wore them to remember. We wore them to keep ourselves thinking.

We weren't supposed to think about negative things-Aerith wouldn't have allowed that. We wanted to keep ourselves thinking about happy things that reminded ourselves of all of the things that we _did _have.

So I picked up the ribbons and carefully folded them between my fingers. Making my way upstairs, I kept my footsteps light in an attempt to keep the children asleep. They were absolutely exhausted-neither would be too happy to have been awoken so late at night.

I stopped in front of the office's door.

_I probably shouldn't wake him up._

Against my better judgment, I carefully pushed the door open; cringing as its old and worn hinges creaked with my pressure. Making just enough room to pass through, I slid between the small gap and found myself standing on the other side; struggling to see correctly into the dimly-lit room.

…But I could see just enough to see somebody sleeping in the small bed on the other side. The bed sheets rose and fell with every breath they took; up and down-in and out.

Slowly, I came closer until I was only a foot or two away from him. I could see a mess of blonde above the thick blankets I had washed only a few days earlier-just in case he decided to come back.

_Home._

He wasn't sick anymore.

He was going to stay this time-he _wanted _to stay. He told me after the celebration that he promised that he wasn't going to leave us again. And I knew that Cloud Strife never broke his promises.

I smiled as I knelt down beside him and watched him sleep. He looked so calm; so relieved. He was content, now. I looked at his left arm. No more bruising. No more oozing, black liquid.

No more ribbon.

It was bittersweet.

After this battle, we knew that we didn't have to wear that ribbon.

Yes, it _was _a reminder. But Aerith had once again kept Cloud safe.

She had given him back to us. She had even given a cure to the people who were told it would never come. For somebody who had done so much for us already, did we still really need something to remind us?

Suddenly, those pictures and memories weren't so forgotten. Seeing Cloud happy made me happy-she had helped to give us that.

He was _smiling _again. I hadn't seen him smile in such a long time; I almost forgot what it even looked like. He was smiling at our friends, he was smiling at the kids, he was smiling to complete strangers-he was smiling to _me. _

…And I haven't blushed in a long time, either.

I missed that feeling.

I stood back up and walked to his desk, where old receipts laid, unorganized and scattered about the top. I couldn't help but laugh quietly to myself. I picked up the small frame containing our family photograph and unscrewed the back of it until it came loose and fell into my hands. I pulled the picture out and dug in my pocket for a moment longer before my hand came back out with another, folded picture. I unfolded and slipped it into the thin frame; gently pushing it's corners into where they belonged before I screwed the back onto it and set it back down onto his desk.

I opened my hand to reveal those two red ribbons once again. I carefully tied them, one by one, onto the corners of the picture frame into small bows.

My smile grew.

Even Aerith was in our family photo.


	2. Not So Bad

I know that I published this yesterday-but I got sick and had to stay home today. :( And hey, when 'ya got nothing else to do while you're at home, why not write? :D I'll probably be updating this once a week or so once I get into the groove of things again. I hope that you guys all like this chapter-I know that it's a little odd and seems a little rushed. (Sorry about that) As I said before, I'm having a bit of writer's block and I've been struggling to come up with material. If you guys would like to give me prompts, that would be great! And hey, if you do so, you just might end up getting a chapter dedicated to you! So, if you like having your name in the sea we call the internet, here's your chance. Haha. But yes-I ALWAYS love to hear what you guys have to say about the chapters and I enjoy listening to your input. :)

Enjoy!

* * *

He hated this.

He hated _every _bit of this.

This had to have been worse than the time he had to dress like a woman.

Okay-maybe it wasn't _that _bad. But it was frustrating nonetheless.

It was Tifa's birthday. He had to get her _something-_but he didn't have the slightest clue what women liked.

He thought that it would be easy; just grab something and get home before she was expecting him to. But this was almost excruciating-there was no way that he was going to make it home by the time he wanted to.

He should call Shera. She knew exactly what Tifa liked-she was one of the barmaid's closest friends aside from him, after all.

Wait-

_Damn._

Cid was working on yet _another_ airship. That meant that Shera was involved in the construction; she was probably leading the science team in designing some special energy-power source-conduit, control something-or-rather as he thought about it.

He supposed that it was convenient enough to already be in Junon on a string of deliveries; although being surrounded by its countless shops apparently weren't enough to even give him a _clue _as to what he should get Tifa.

...There was always Yuffie. The young, spunky ninja always kept her phone on her; something extremely horrid would have had to happen to her to not reply to a message or a phone call. He went to his contacts and scrolled to her name.

-And stopped.

As he gave himself time to think clearly about what he was doing, he very quickly realized that Tifa was much more civilized than Yuffie-he at least had enough common sense to know that Yuffie's idea of a good birthday gift for Tifa was entirely different from his idea of the right present, even if he didn't have the slightest clue as to what he really wanted to get her.

A piece of jewelry?

No, that sounded a little too fancy…

Flowers?

Too cliché. He was surprised that he even knew what that meant. He rolled his eyes slightly.

He lifted his phone to his face once more and frowned. He must have been standing there for an hour already.

Tifa always knew what to do for his birthday. He never had to tell her-she already had it planned out. Last year, she made a large dinner and they sat down with the children. She was such an amazing cook-he was never hungry until he took a whiff of her cooking. She never cooked anything that tasted bad; she made the most gross-sounding things delicious.

Speaking of…

Cloud let his head fall back towards the sky; half in relief and half in frustration that it had taken him so long to gather his thoughts into such a simple idea.

Perhaps a nice dinner?

There was a new restaurant a few blocks down from the Seventh Heaven. Maybe he could get her to close the bar a little earlier tonight, and they could take Denzel and Marlene with them. It sounded like a good idea, at least. He could do that.

He threw his leg over to Fenrir's opposite side and let out a huff of air before pressing his goggles to his face and twisting the key in the ignition. The beastly motorcycle roared to life in an instant, and soon the blonde had disappeared into Junon's highway's horizon.

* * *

…The devil's strip was almost completely empty.

Cloud's brows furrowed together into a puzzled expression as he dropped Fenrir's keys into his pocket and dismounted his bike. He twisted his head back for a moment.

The Meteor Circle was still bustling as ever. People were still roaming around; the evening was still plenty young and street vendors were still out and working as hard as they ever did to make their livings. The occasional car passed-nothing seemed out of the ordinary for a Friday night. He turned back and continued towards the Seventh Heaven's front door. He pulled the goggles from his face and leaned forward slightly.

_The Seventh Heaven is currently closed-I apologize for the inconvience!_

_-Tifa_

His lips pursed together. She hadn't gotten sick while he was away, had she? He tried to peer in through the windows, only to find the thin blinds drawn. What was going on?

He took his key to the bar and cautiously slid it into the deadbolt. Peering in through the small crack between him in the door, he found the tables dark and unoccupied. He slipped past the threshold and closed the door behind him.

"…Tifa?"

"Yes?"

He turned his head to his right.

A young woman sat in the shadows; her figure abstract within the darkness. He could make out long, coffee-colored hair that came down mid-way past her chest. He couldn't see exactly what she was wearing-but it didn't look like her usual black vest and apron. He laid a few undelivered boxes down by the door and slowly twisted his head in various directions to get a clearer view of her face. "Is everything alright?"

Tifa pulled the blind behind her and let it roll back to it's former position; hanging a few inches above the window. Sunlight from the pink and purple-painted sky instantaneously seeped into the bar from the large window and spilled out onto the hardwood floor, illuminating the once-dark span.

Cloud blinked several times. An eyebrow lifted.

She was wearing a white dress that stopped at her knees with a small necklace that the blonde immediately recognized as one of the few things that Tifa had saved from their childhood. She even had a little eye makeup on-she was most certainly attractive. Not that she wasn't normally. But Cloud liked this, too.

_Shit._

He could feel his face turning a shade of pink. He turned away slightly in a futile attempt to hide the blush-he hated that.

"I hope you weren't planning anything from my birthday," She gave him a kind smile and rose to greet him.

He said nothing; slightly perplexed.

"I wanted to stay home for my birthday this time," Tifa's eyes shifted to various areas of the bar, "So I made us dinner."

Cloud turned back to face where she had previously been sitting. Only two seats sat at the table. His eyes didn't move from the table itself, but his head twisted slightly towards her. "…Where are the kids?"

"I took them to Elmyra's earlier. She said that she'll keep them there for the night-I'm going to pick them up tomorrow morning."

"What did you make?"

She laughed softly and pointed to the bar counter, where numerous pans and pots were filled with hot food. Cloud took in a deep breath and inhaled the strong scents of her fresh cooking.

"…I was going to ask you if you wanted to go with me to get something to eat," Cloud laughed quietly; more to himself than to her.

After he had tried so hard to think of something worthy of Tifa for her birthday…

Tifa pulled something from one of the drawers behind the counter and walked back to their table. She lit two small candles with a match and threw it into the wastebasket a little ways away before handing him a plate. "Eat up.

He took the plate and pulled the lids from a few of the dishes. "It's your birthday-I think that I should do something for you."

She pulled the cork from a wine bottle. "You've given me plenty."

He sat into the chair across from her and ran his fingers through his blonde hair. "But you did so much to close the bar and make dinner for me."

"See-that's it," Tifa gave him a kind smile and poured the wine into both of their glasses. "I'm going to get to spend my birthday with you." A small blush glowed upon her face.

Cloud smiled slightly.

Dinner with her didn't sound like a bad idea at all.


	3. 20 Prompts

Haha, sooooo...I've been really busy lately and I feel bad for not writing anything in such a long time. D: So I've noticed a lot of these kinds of chapters using prompts through various stories, so I thought I'd give it a shot. Feel free to tell me if it turned out alright :)-or if it didn't turn out so great. XD I'm pretty sure that there are twenty here. But I was extremely tired when I was trying to count them so pardon me if I'm off by a few. XD I know that some of the prompts are dry-but I just dealt with the cards I got, so to speak. So I hope you enjoy-it's my little present to you for the holiday. c:

**

* * *

Amuck**: Most people would assume that being locked outside in the pouring rain was bad. But for once, it wasn't Cloud—maybe it was because he wasn't the only one locked out of the bar, or perhaps it was because she was shivering and he was the only one wearing a coat.

**Immunity: **He could have sworn that JENOVA cells could mend any wound or virus obtained, whether by the edges of a paper or the tip of a ten-foot blade. But that entire thought went straight through the window when he woke up with a cough that could have woken the dead. Good thing Tifa was there to sneak soup upstairs to him whenever it was convenient for her.

**Blackmail: **Those kids absolutely loved to torture him—especially when they found that scrapbook full of pictures; particularly ones involving violet dresses and blonde wigs with braids and bows. He hated doing the dishes at two in the morning, but if it meant said photos staying away from that one barmaid for the rest of forever, he would do every single one of their chores for the rest of his life.

**Headache: **Nothing made his head hurt more than trying to choose the flowers that most closely resembled her beauty and seemingly never-ending patience. The florist didn't seem so eager to wait, though, as she quickly shoved him a small bouquet of flowers and sent him out the door.

He threw them into the trash—they just weren't good enough.

**Mention: **His excuse was that he "forgot" to mention that he had purchased tickets to Costa De Sol for her birthday—one for her, one for him. Too bad that the hotel forgot to mention that their room only had one bed.

**Crisis: **Having their home burnt down by a madman was no longer the crisis, nor was a gigantic meteor looming and tearing through the air above. It wasn't a deadly disease that was killing of young and old alike and tearing a certain "family" apart, either. Nope—it was the delivery of a wedding cake whose carrier's misfortune landed the bakery's rattling van a flat tire on the day of the wedding.

**Shoelace: **Tifa knew it was time for new shoes when their leather exterior was worn away to a sickly gray color—or maybe it was when she tripped between those worn-out strings on the last three stairs and Cloud just _happened _to be in the right spot at the right time.

**Lullaby: **Soft songs sung to the children at night weren't just for their benefit—Cloud, being the insomniac he was, found himself standing behind the doorway and silently listening to that angelic voice of hers. It was a shame that she didn't have the time to listen to herself.

**Tip-Toe: **She watched as the young boy's eyes finally closed before she turned back to admire the little girl's sleeping face. Rolling her eyes and chuckling softly to herself; she continued humming those songs—knowing that at least _one _other person was listening; whether she was supposed to know it or not.

**Teenier: **Cloud would have never believed that something so small and fragile could completely change the path of his life and radiate such a feeling of purity and innocence—until he lifted that small bundle of blankets into his arms.

**Wretch: **Amazing grace-so sweet the sound that saved a wretch like him. He once was lost, but she found him in that train station one day and showed him compassion and understanding like no other. He was blind in his weakness; thanks to her, now he sees.

**Ruby: **She always told him how magnificent his mako-infused eyes were in the sunlight. He never paid attention, however; his eyes remained locked on hers…sunlight or not.

**Elegance: **Even at her occupation as a barmaid, she worked with such grace and swiftness that it made him wonder sometimes why she never played piano anymore.

**Runaway: **She was the runaway. Coming into that towering city above her, she was one of the untouchables. She was punished to never see the sky beyond the metal plate above or the thick smog that never broke to see the blue air above. But when she was on the run with her new-found family, friends, a purpose, and _him, _she didn't mind running so much anymore.

**Bloodying: **_Even when his skin was covered in his own blood after that battle, Tifa didn't care as she cautiously slid her arm beneath his head and gently shook him. She frowned as her eyes fell upon a bullet hole in the warrior's chest, right where his heart was._

"_Cloud?"_

_He didn't reply. She shook him a little harder, but his eyes refused to open to meet her. She slowly laid her fingers against the side of his neck and quickly shook her head, hot tears stinging her eyes as she felt nothing. He was gone. But all of the consoling would never be enough to take her pain away—Sephiroth claimed another friend, her best friend, and the man she cared about more than anything else. _

_He'll no longer talk, no longer laugh, cry…or get angry…_

A smile spread across her face as she watched Cloud quietly eat and listen to Marlene and Denzel tell him stories about what he missed while he had been sick. How foolish of her to think that Cloud Strife would have _really _gone without a fight.

**Soaring: **Nothing made his heart pound and flutter within his chest as much as when he watched her feet leap from the floor and with a cracking "Yes!", she let him trap her in his arms. He looked above his head to the endless blue above and a smile slowly grew upon his face. Looked like they were going to have to fix that hole in the roof.

**Twinkle: **Even as she looked away, Cloud couldn't help but catch that special sparkle in her eyes when she explained that Barret and Elmyra had taken the kids for the weekend.

**Liar: **He tried to convince her that he had made dinner for them _once_—even when it meant he only picked up the phone and dialed the number of a small Wutainese restaurant down the street. She would have tried to tease him about that—but she was too distracted trying to pat the small flame out on the back of his jeans that had been caused by a stray grease spatter. Good thing he didn't notice.

**Magnetism: **Tifa couldn't help but grin as she watched the children play with a set of colorful, toy magnets. Denzel explained to her how opposites attract. She couldn't help but snort and roll her eyes, laughing. The boy just thought that she was laughing about one of her patrons—but it wasn't really just _opposites _that attract.


	4. Squeakiest

So I apologize for this chapter being a little lazy and rushed-I only had a little amount of time to make this up, but I still thought I should do it. I wrote this for XXsilverXtwilightXX, who was very nice about reviewing this last chapter and wanted me to make a few full chapters on the prompts I used in chapter 3. :) I hope everybody enjoys the best they can, haha-thanks again for reading! And, as always, I like reviews. ;)

* * *

His ears felt as if they had been stuffed with cotton balls.

His head was throbbing—it was like Cid was hitting the wrong thing on one of his airships or something. Yuffie must have shoved pinecones down his throat while he was sleeping in an attempt to pilfer some of his materia, too.

Rolling over, he quickly regretted it as all of his muscles painfully locked and he was frozen for a moment before he was able to hesitantly pull them back into their former positions. He winced and let out a soft hiss of air between clenched teeth.

The muffled, quiet voices of two young children spoke beneath him, downstairs in the bar. The soft clinking of silverware and mugs accompanies them.

…What time was it?

Cloud forced his sore eyes to turn to the old, worn alarm clock on his desk. He could nothing but cringe upon seeing that it was two hours past the time he should have woken up. He forced his aching body to pull itself upright; although it took several more painstaking minutes than it should have.

_Damn._

Why was it so cold? His office was normally too hot, no matter the season. His skin prickled and he shivered as he slid a shirt over his chest and trudged across the hall to the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

_...DAMN._

He could have been passed off as the living dead. He knew that he certainly never tanned—but he wasn't supposedly to look like one of Marlene's glue sticks, either. His eyes weren't glowing to their normal, electric luster, too. Even his blonde hair was dull. He closed his eyes as his sight was invaded by a wave of purple and dizziness took him over; threatening to send him stumbling to the side like one of Tifa's drunken patrons. He gripped the side of the bathroom sink and let out a dry cough that rattled his entire body. He shakily pulled a clean towel from the rack and removed his articles of clothing before he slipped into the shower in an attempt to warm his chilled form.

…It was going to be a long day.

* * *

Tifa watched Marlene and Denzel scarf down their plates of hotcakes, syrup adorning their faces as well as well as the freshly-cleaned table. She sighed softly and pulled a wet rag from the sink.

It was ten o'clock. Cloud hadn't left the house—had he? She normally awoke when she heard the front door open and quietly close, so early in the morning. But she had slept sound until she had woken a few hours before.

_Squeeeeeeeak. Squeak._

She could hear the rusty, old knobs of the shower upstairs being twisted as the sound of water ceased. Several minutes later, the bathroom door creaked on its hinges and the soft padding of footsteps as they quickly slipped across, back into the narrow hallway above. Tifa took the children's plates and wiped the countertop clean.

"…Is Cloud taking today off?"

Tifa smiled at Marlene and shrugged slightly as she watched her hop down from her seat. "I'm not sure."

Denzel tugged on the girl's arm and pointed to the window, where a thin, ever-so-rare layer of ice coated the roads and sidewalks. "You know Cloud's probably going to go into the garage to work on his motorcycle—we should sneak up on him and throw snowballs at him."

The barmaid chuckled softly and shook her head. "I don't think that he'd like that—you know that he hates cold weather."

_It reminds him of home._

"So," Marlene giggled as she rushed up the stairs. "That'll make it more fun!" Denzel quickly followed her.

Tifa rolled her eyes and laughed quietly to herself and restocked a few beers into the refrigerator. The Seventh Heaven was going to open soon—she could already see a few of her regular customers beginning to hang around other shops nearby.

Heavy boots thudded against the ground definitely from above. Within a few minutes, the office door's lock softly clicked, and then closed again before being followed by another set of footsteps that echoed through the silent bar—take away Denzel and Marlene's giggles and yelps. Tifa smiled and peered around the corner to the stairwell, where the silhouette of a blonde stood. "…Good morning."

He didn't reply right away. His cerulean eyes met hers, but it was as if he was staring right through her. He looked a bit more tired to her than usual—but it didn't seem too out of the ordinary and she passed it off for a restless night; he seemed to have a lot of those lately. She twisted back to the counter and handed him a mug of steaming liquid, which the blonde looked at wearily for several minutes before his hand slid from the handle and he apparently decided against drinking any. Tifa frowned slightly.

"I have to go soon," Cloud made a hard attempt to not cough. It turned out more like a crack in his throat that sounded very out-of-place in the silent room. "I've got to stop by Cid's—he wants me to give him a few more things for his new project—or something…" His voice trailed off as another wave of purple haze blurred his vision. A sharp, quick pain shot through his head and his gripped the edge of the counter once his legs began to feel like they were going to give from underneath him.

Tifa quickly slipped from behind the counter and slid a hand around one of his arms. "…Cloud?"

"I'm alright," He winced as another pain shot through his head and his muscles locked in unison. He complied with Tifa's forceful grip and leaned against one of the bar stools.

She placed the back of her head to his forehead before her frown deepened and she shook her head. "...You've got a fever."

"It's not that bad—I'll be alright," Cloud was already making an attempt to get back onto his feet.

Tifa pulled Fenrir's key from his hand and shoved them into one of her apron's pockets. "You're staying home today."

"I worked when I was sick before."

She stopped washing a plate and blinked.

"When," Cloud stopped as his another pinecone scratched his throat. "When I had Geostigma, I still went to work. It didn't stop me."

Tifa bit her lip; her gaze lowered as did her voice. "I _know _you're sick today. So I can stop you from going to work—don't fight me, Cloud."

The blonde was almost much too tired to keep up the conversation successfully. He was already beginning to feel drowsy and it was like there were too many words trying to be processed from within his head. He slid off of his seat and ran a quick hand over his face before he sluggishly forced his leather jacket off and turned to face her. "…I won't go."

"Good," She smiled slightly and gently nudged him towards the stairs; careful not to get too close to him. After all, she couldn't get sick—there wouldn't be anybody else to run the bar. "Then I'll make some soup."


	5. Midweek

Oi, I haven't written anything in _forever _and I was feeling very deprived. D: But I feel a little better, posting this. xD I'm sorry if this drabble seems a little long and pointless-please cut me some slack; it's two in the morning right now and I just had to get the last part of this done. But I'd still (like always, really), would appreciate reviews as a little come-back gift. ^_^ Hopefully I'll have the next chapter up sooner than I got this one posted.

Enjoy! :D

* * *

Wednesdays _sucked_.

The bar's phone lines were jammed, usually with calls for him—the delivery service was always the busiest in the middle of the week. That meant that he was away from home longer than usual; something he was beginning to despise more and more with every new minute that he was able to spend with Tifa and the children. But it was what helped bring in much of the income, and put food on the table—because, after all, Denzel was a young boy and ate anything and everything that his small hands could get on.

And this Wednesday was no different. He had been out, from early that morning and probably wouldn't be home until later that night. He had at least tried to call—but of course, the line was busy and that monotone, machine-controlled operator told him to call back at a later time. He had grown so tired of Fenrir's roaring engine—it was beginning to feel more like a dull throbbing within his head the more he had to listen to it.

He hadn't been home in nearly three days; it had been almost a day and a half since he had last talked to Tifa. He missed his comfortable bed—inns in Junon were inexpensive but their beds were about as cheap as chocobo straw, and it was hard enough to get his head to lay down on it. He'd rather sleep on the bare ground most times; although that was probably because he had grown slightly accustomed to it from years past. No matter which way he thought about it, there really wasn't a place that could even compete to his small office in the upstairs of the bar. He even missed the sound of Marlene and Denzel's feet as they scurried past his door while he was trying to sleep. It may have grown slightly annoying at times, but he was reaching the point of missing it as well as their muffled whispers and Tifa's coaxing to quiet down so that he could get a proper good night's rest.

…He missed her, too.

A knot twisted in his abdomen each time that he thought about his absence. He had become used to not having to worry _too _much about her being alone—after all, it _was _Tifa Lockhart and she _was _known for whipping a man's ass into shape without the slightest bit of hesitation. But aside from her physical well-being, Cloud knew all too well that a storm was always quick to stir within her and although she hid it well, Tifa did not like to be lonely. When he was sick, he used to remind himself that she at least she had the kids; that was the companionship she needed. But now, after everything had settled down and the city had fallen back into a relatively normal routine once more, he realized that she most certainly was not well off alone. He didn't necessarily have to lift a finger in relation to helping her around the bar each seldom day off, but he could catch the smile on her face that never faded when she was serving patrons. Marlene had told him after dinner once that Tifa _always _smiled when he was home. Of course it made him feel better about himself, but the issue rose upon his epiphany that he was still not home as much as they had wanted him to—as much as he wanted to be.

He twisted the key in Fenrir's ignition and slipped his sunglasses behind his ears.

Damn, he wanted to be home.

* * *

"…Denzel, give it back!"

Tifa let out a strong huff as she turned on her heels; sneakers squeaking on the scratched, polished hardwood. "Quiet down, you two."

Marlene folded her arms across her chest—a habit she had picked up from Barret, no doubt—and pushed her lips out with a defiant look in her chocolate eyes. "Denzel has my box of crayons, Tifa. He won't give them _back_!" The last word was spat to the young boy, who was grinning from ear to ear with her crayons hovering above his head.

The little girl's expression was silly and exaggerated enough to make the barmaid at least chuckle—although she in too much of a hurry and much too exhausted to do so. She slipped past the counter and pulled the small, yellow box from Denzel's hand, much to his disappointment, and swiftly handed it back to Marlene. "…I don't want to hear another argument between you two. You've had about a thousand already today—what's going on with you?"

The children took a few sideways glances from one another, but neither said anything. Tifa pretended not to care until a slight smile tugged on the corners of Denzel's mouth.

"…What?"

He shook his head. "…It's nothing."

Marlene giggled.

Tifa couldn't resist smiling at least a _little_—it was good to see smiles and hear laughter again. "Are you sure you aren't going to tell me?"

The little girl shrugged and finally unfolded her arms. "We _could_, but then you'd be embarrassed."

It was then that she noticed the crumpled piece of paper folded between Marlene's fingers. "…Did you draw something?"

Marlene quickly hid the paper behind her back and smugly shook her head. "Maybe."

Tifa let her arm fall and her knuckles hit the counter; giving Marlene a jump and she stepped back cautiously. The young woman laughed softly and knelt down before them. "Can I see it?"

The two again, shared a quick flash-glance before Marlene slowly held her hand up in front of her face.

Tifa took it and gave them a quick, short smile before she carefully unfolded it and smoothed it out on her knees. Her lips parted slightly and her face grew unreadable as a scrawl of yellow spikes and dark brown strands covered the page.

"…Do you know who it is?" Marlene giggled softly and swayed on her feet, her hands twisting at her sides. Denzel's quiet laugh accompanied hers.

She gave them a minute smile and nodded slowly. "It's me…and Cloud."

Marlene pointed at something on the page and grinned.

"What do you know," Tifa's chest rose with an inhale and she chuckled softly. "…We're holding hands."

* * *

**Two Days Later**

He remembered telling her about this field of flowers—as _far _as they eye could possibly see.

She had told him that sunflowers were her favorite. It was a busy night in the bar and her mumbling was barely audible, but he was able to catch that one last phrase from beneath her breath as she slid past him and grabbed a few tables' worth of dishes and silverware from the cupboard on the far side of the bar.

He should take her here sometime. She'd love it—she'd probably bring a basket full of food and ask him if he wanted to have a picnic. He had never been good at being particularly sociable, but she was one of the few that his tongue didn't seem having too much of a problem forming words with, for lack of a better way to put it.

But he didn't have time to stay—not tonight, at least. He was hoping to get home a little earlier tonight, hoping to at least be able to get into a comfortable, full-of-springs and not-straw bed if not being able to at least say hello and/or goodnight to Tifa and the kids. The smell of sunflowers slowly faded with the wind, and he found himself on a roughly-paved road once more and the numbing smell of dust as Fenrir's tires spun and spun, gradually getting faster and faster. He coughed softly.

He had about fifteen calls that day, all clients willing to pay in return for his services. But he was fed up—even for Cloud Strife, there was only so much work that he could take before the feel of wrapped parcels in his hands began to make him feel slightly nauseous and he grew weary of cell-phone vibrations.

There was this little town on the outskirts of that sunflower field. It was humble and wasn't exactly the most attractive, but oddly enough was the place that he felt the most home at. It had one small restaurant, a four-room inn, and a bar. The bar had the closest thing to Tifa's drinks, but of course, they weren't the same. These were rougher and some he was sure could knock a grown man off of his feet—which wasn't something Cloud was looking for nor could necessarily stomach…literally. He had a specialt drink there _once_—and soon regretted it as he found himself struggling to keep his stomach contents from coming back to haunt him the next morning. Least ways, it was comfortable enough for him and to stop in for a little while to rest wouldn't hurt.

Fenrir glided effortlessly into a tight corner in its snug, dusty parking lot. Two cars sat on the other side; he remembered the bartender explaining that one was hers and the other was the cooks, her husband. The bar itself didn't see too much business during this part of the season—it was still relatively early in the spring and most people in the area were into the agricultural business, so to speak. But it was something that the couple did in their spare time, to keep themselves entertained if nothing else.

The motorcycle's engine silenced and Cloud swung his leg over the side, shoving his keys into his pocket in doing so. The door jammed—this had happened before—so he gave it a little extra effort and it creaked open. Inside, an older woman rose to her feet from sitting at a stool behind the counter and gave him a kind smile.

"…Look who's back."

"Just coming by," Cloud sat down at the counter and set his cell phone down onto the counter. The bar smelled of alcohol and fresh wood, mixed with his own scent of motor oil and fresh air—along with the sunflowers he knew Tifa would surely like.

She watched him for another few minutes before she turned her back to him. "Can I get you anything?"

He thought for a moment before slowly nodding.

"The usual?"

Cloud blinked. He had only been here twice—she actually _remembered _what he had gotten? He gave her another affirmative nod.

The gruff barmaid dug in the small fridge and soon pulled a cool bottle of beer from its depths. He took it from her calloused hand and gave her a small smile out of gratitude.

"So…what brings you to these parts again, Mister Strife?" She leaned against the counter and twisted her head to the side with an inquisitive glint in her sterling eyes.

"Deliveries in Junon," He pulled the cap from the bottle. "I've been out of Edge for about half a week now. I'm hoping to get home later tonight, if the weather stays like this anyways."

The barmaid bit her wrinkly, lower lip before she took a wet rag to the rough wooden counter. "…Do you miss your family?"

Cloud looked up.

"Because," She threw the rag into a weaved basket and resumed her position on the stool. "I'm sure that they've missed having you around."

"I just want to sleep in my own bed."

The young woman chuckled and nodded. "Understandable."

He continued to nurse his drink for several minutes before the elderly woman spoke again.

"…Miss Lockhart is a very sweet young woman."

Cloud laid his bottle onto the counter and ran his finger over the rim idly. "You know her?"

She laughed again and tapped a wooden crate behind her. "Seventh Heaven is one of the best bars on the entire Eastern Continent, from what I hear. Where else do you think I get my stock?"

"Tifa sells to you?" His weary vision cleared ever so slightly, and he felt a bit more alert than previously before.

"Mhm," The barmaid took his empty bottle and threw it into the garbage disposal bin. "She seems very kind on the phone. I've never met her in person—but I'd like to sometime."

"I'm sure she'd like to see what you have here," Cloud gave the woman another small, rare smile. "She's always interested in finding out what other people make."

The woman returned the smile and fiddled with her thumbs. "Would you like another?"

He shook his head. "I have to get home."

She handed him a small slip of paper. Upon taking it from her hands, Cloud's eyes swiftly scanned it's faded print and pulled a few gil from his pocket. "…Keep the change."

She took it and dropped the crumpled bill into a worn register drawer beside her. "…Do you love her?"

Cloud blinked, perplexed. "…Hmm?"

"Tifa—you know, the woman that runs the bar with you?" The elderly woman laughed and pointed to a list of phone numbers tacked to the wooden doorframe behind her.

His lips pursed into a thin line; that heat he despised so much began to surface upon his cheeks and he knew that there was no hiding it.

"…Why don't you give her this?"

Cloud's cerulean eyes followed her as she reached behind her and pulled forth a long-stemmed, yellow sunflower.

"I'm sure Miss Lockhart will enjoy it."

He dumbly took the large flower from her hand and examined it between his hands.

"So I'm going to ask you again," The elder gave him a sly smirk. "Do you love her?"

Cloud looked up.

He smiled slightly.

"…I have to get going—she's not going to wait all night."


	6. Biofeedback

I know that I posted a new chapter just yesterday, but I was _really _bored in the past two hours and I needed _something _ to keep myself entertained for a bit. xD I actually had something completely different going for the beginning (if you couldn't tell) xD, but I ended up switching it around a bit. It turned out fairly well, I'm not too sure about the ending-I hope that I didn't make them too OCC (especially Cloud), so t'd be great if you could let me know about that. xD He's such a toughie to write about/from his point of view...he doesn't say too much and uses body communication more than most of the group. But I still think he's sexy. xD Well I'm always open to ideas and prompts so if you've got one for me, PM me or review about it! I'd love to hear what you guys have to say. :)

And thank you to the following:

**Pookyilicous**

**XXSilverXTwilightXX**

**cloverriot96**

**MetalGearJedi**

**Syzeria**

For reviewing and being so kind! I'd love to keep hearing what you've got to say. :D

Enjoy!

* * *

The planet was not happy.

In fact, it was furious-with its inhabitants; their children and a good majority of the generations before. It had been vocalizing its strong displeasure for the past thirty years or so, or at least since ShinRa had been able to have its way; forceful or not.

But either way, they were fighting for its survival; they were doing the tasks in which the planet could not. The Lifestream may have been able to talk—but _they _could fight. This group of misfits from scattered and backwater lands that some people could have only been able to dream about was one of the few things that the planet still had on its side. But soon, just that would not be enough.

A power, so much greater than ShinRa was looming over the small planet that so many called home. AVALANCHE could not stop Meteor—fate was inevitable for so many.

Aerith was gone, now. She was dead, too. Just like Jess, Biggs, and Wedge. They had all joined one another in the Lifestream; maybe they were all laughing together about how silly the rest of them looked—how futile their fighting, crying, and screaming was.

_...But they wouldn't do that_, Tifa constantly reminded herself of this at least several times a day. With the flower girl's murder still unbearably fresh in everyone's mind, it was hard to _not_ than completely forget. And as she sat in that inn room, completely alone, she couldn't help but wonder what the living others were thinking at that exact moment.

She had heard Barret shooting outside. And it didn't sound like he was aiming at anything in particular; just whatever he saw was fit and shootable. He had shouted something a few times; although she hadn't been able to catch it and she didn't necessarily deem it right to intrude on him. Aerith was his child, just like the rest of them—he may have been rough around the edges and was cold at times, but Barret Wallace had emotions just like the rest of them and he felt pain just as much as they did. Maybe he put that gun on his arm to self-vent.

Vincent was spending some time with Lucrecia—if you could even call it "spending time". He had separated from the party about two days earlier to visit her cave; he said that he would return when she had explained a few things to him. Yuffie offered to go with him, but he declined to the best of his ability and allowed the spunky ninja to properly bitch him out before he left. But even now, Yuffie was quieter and hadn't said too much after Vincent left; maybe she missed him as much as she did Aerith.

Cid was Cid. There wasn't too many ways to tell when Cid was feeling sad. He was always swearing—maybe if Tifa listened enough, she'd pick up on the word patterns enough to learn which ones he used more when he was happy, angry, etcetera.

The young woman smoothed her leather skirt and rose to her feet. She knocked on the door a few feet from her bed and hesitated.

She hadn't heard from Cloud in a while. He had been holed up in his room for a good portion of the week; she had no idea what he could possibly be spending all of that time in there. He never slept particularly well—it was a doubtful idea to think that he could be sleeping all of that time. And he was most certainly a man of few words, always had been; most of the others hadn't bothered too much to speak to one another anyways.

She slowly rapped her knuckles against the worn wood and waited for a response.

_One..._

One minute had passed. She waited.

_One and a half…_

…And waited. Maybe he didn't hear her. But it was Cloud, too—all of that mako could make him hear a tear fall to the ground. He must have heard a lot of that around there lately.

_Three…_

There was a click on the other side of the door, and then slowly, the door ebbed open. Tifa took the door handle in her hands and peered around the corner. Her eyes caught on a mess of blonde spikes; although they inadvertently passed right by as he was so quiet. "…Cloud?"

He shifted in the shadow of the door and silently pulled himself away from the doorframe. Two mako-infused, electric blue eyes stared back at her.

Tifa fidgeted with her suspenders and uncomfortably invited herself into the room without saying a word. Her hands dug into her biceps until crescent nail marks were left behind and she remained unsure as to what to say as she found herself continually turning back to investigate those cerulean orbs.  
''…I just wanted to see how you were doing."

"I'm fine," Cloud said it quickly, almost too quickly as he closed the door behind him and finally pulled the glue from his feet to trudge forward; if only a foot or two.

"I," She paused and turned on her heels. "That's all I needed."

His eyes studied her; made her feel like he was carefully examining every square inch of her body.

"I can leave if you want me to."

The blonde tilted his head ever so slightly to the side; a signature expression he tended to do out of habit which usually expressed his distain towards something. After a moment, he opened his mouth but nothing came out; he resorted to a simple shake of the head and held an arm out to his side, towards the beds. "Stay, if you want."

The barmaid took him up on his offer after a minute of deliberation and finally let her arms drop to her sides. She sat down on the bed adjacent from the one which was apparently Cloud's, as the sheets were tangled and she could see a blonde strand of hair or two resting on the pillow. She bit her lip and closed her eyes for a moment. What was there to say? Aerith was the only thing on anybody's mind, she knew and he obviously did too as he made no attempt to say anything—not that he did on a regular basic, either. She folded her legs beneath her. "…What do you think is going to happen to us, now?"

Tifa knew that was a stupid question to ask. Not only did she ask Cloud of all people, but she was asking herself that as well. She knew the answer; she had gone over the end result over and over and over and over again in her head. It used to bother her—why did it have to be like this? But now it didn't. The thought itself was numbing and at times, she wondered what the others thought about it.

Cloud cracked several of his fingers and blinked. "…Huh?"

"When Meteor hits," Tifa patted her knees until her ivory skin turned a pale shade of pink. "We can't stop it. Even if we reach Sephiroth, Meteor's already going to be over Midgar. And then from there, it's going to branch out more and more until the entire planet's covered in it. There's no telling how many people are going to die…" Her voice trailed off.

Cloud lazily ran a hand through his hair and lifted a shoulder to his ear for a moment. "…What are you going to do?"

She looked at him with glistening, wet eyes. She bit her lip and ran a long finger across her lower eyelid to hide the tears that threatened to spill over; she cleared her throat to disguise the pain beneath her words. "I wanted to go home," She chuckled bitterly and shook her head slowly, "but I don't think that doing that would be a very good idea."

"I see."

He sounded like Vincent. With every passing day, Tifa couldn't help but find it slightly amusing to find the similarities between the two stoic men. Maybe that's why they got along so well. But either way, she hated their simple responses and would rather listen to an hour long, detailed explanation of everything that came out of their mouths. But then, she supposed, he just wouldn't be the Cloud she knew anymore. She wiped her eye once more and turned back to face him. "…What are you going to do?"

Cloud's lips remained pursed in a thin line. "I guess—" He stopped.

Tifa waited.

He opened his mouth to speak, but then it quickly snapped shut and his eyes fell to the floor. He shook his head and mumbled something under his breath; Tifa couldn't hear it and she sat just a few inches closer to him.

"You'll…?"

"I guess I'll stay with you."

She blinked, mouth slightly agape. "…Hmm?"

"You said that you wanted to go home," Cloud was now looking straight at her with his eyes glowing with intensity. "I want to go home, too."

Tifa, at a loss for the proper words, just kept her head relatively low and remained silent for several minutes before she unfolded her legs and swung them over the side of the bed. "…What do you think Aerith would have wanted to do?"

The warrior's eyes narrowed, and soon his own head lowered beneath shafts of gold. "…She probably would have gone back to Midgar—to be with Elmyra. And the flowers…" He let out an exasperated huff and shook his head. "I could have done something, you know."

"There wasn't a whole lot that _could _have been done, Cloud."

"I should have gotten there sooner, Tifa," Cloud's fingers balled into a fist; Tifa observed to see if he would throw it into the wall or not.

"She knew about the dangers of going there by herself—but she thought she had to go alone, it was her obligation," There wasn't much she could say to him that would make him feel significantly better about the entire event she knew, but it was worth at least pulling him a little farther away from the suicidal mark. Not that he would do that in the first place…

"So," Cloud's voice was soft, although its tone was sharp and somewhat cold. "That makes it alright for her to die because it was something that she had to do?"

"That's not what I'm saying, Cloud."

"Then what is it?" His voice signaled a level of defeat; he didn't really want to pick a fight with anybody.

Tifa rose to her feet, earning his eyes to follow. Cautiously, she willed herself to sit down onto his bed beside him. His body tense, but she tried to pay no attention as she continued. "Aerith knew she was going to die, Cloud. But she went to the Forgotten City anyways."

His eyes were a young child's once more. "…She wanted us to live."

She nodded slowly and gave him a bittersweet smile. "She gave us what she couldn't have. She loved us."

_You loved her._

Her smile dissipated.

"But…it's not going to matter anymore, I suppose," Cloud shook his head slowly and closed his eyes. His fist tightened momentarily.

After a good five minutes of debating, Tifa decided against what she supposed would be the "right" thing to do and slid closer, until their knees touched. Cloud didn't move. She carefully slid her arms beneath his until her fingers met at his back; she closed her eyes and rested her head upon his shoulder.

Cloud slowly laid his head upon hers. She was tired, he was tired. And he was glad that she had brought him out of his hole, if only for a few minutes of the day. And if Meteor was going to strike and that was going to be the end as everybody knew it, then at least he would be at home.

With her.

He closed his eyes and let his nose press into her hair.


	7. Gladiatorial

Haha. So recently, I've been having a bit of an inspiration to write lately and so I've just been sort of filling my time up writing on various things-it probably all has to do on this huuuuuge English paper I've been working on. xD But, anywho, here's chapter 7. It sort of went nowhere, but it's still simple and it certainly shouldn't screw with your head too much, haha. I was originally going to make this about a drunken patron hitting on Tifa, but thinking about Cloud verbally/physically ragging on someone because of some flirting just seemed too out of character for him (I've always taken Cloud as more of the "I'm going to stare at you from across the room with a 'I'm-going-to-kill-you-if-I-see-you-do-it-again' sort of way xD). So I just sort of reversed it, and I found this way to be a bit more suiting.

As always, I like reviews-and favorites are always pleasurable, but I'm not going to ask for too much. xD The next chapter should be up soon. Enjoy! :)

* * *

"_Gimme another drink, noooooww!"_

"_You aren't gonna make a handsome guy like me pay this s'riously?"_

"_C'mere, you pretty lookin' girl! I'll tip you extra if you lemme get a little peek of your—"_

Oh, the things Tifa heard sometimes. Most men couldn't finish that last statement—they were on their asses or out the door before they could even complete "titties". But of course she didn't mind the occasional extra help when she could get it. She seldom let Marlene and Denzel downstairs on the extremely busy nights; there was no telling what some of those intoxicated men were thinking when they set eyes on that little girl.

But she had to admit—watching one of her drunken female patrons hitting on Denzel once was very amusing. The boy kept himself surprisingly composed and cool as she threw flirts and suggestions—some of which Tifa prayed he didn't quite yet understand—and he remained calm and she was sure that even he found it funny. But nonetheless, the kids were not allowed downstairs and that was a solid ground rule enforced in the Seventh Heaven. So Tifa was usually the only person working downstairs on such nights, trudging through the knee-deep crap also known as piss-drunk customers.

…Well, maybe tonight wouldn't be _so _bad.

Cloud was home early tonight. And, since that one date in particular, he had been willing to help her around the bar whenever possible. It was a small gesture, but a kind one nonetheless and Tifa was very grateful to him for it.

The barmaid pulled a rag from beneath the counter and began wiping the smooth granite over before another customer could find their place in said spot. From the corner of her eye and peering past the thick line of people sitting between her and a certain someone, she spotted that flurry of golden spikes that she had silently begun to admire more and more with each passing day. Although she acted to keep no mind to him and her eyes remained steadfast on her wet dishcloth, a small smile slowly spread across her face.

They had dinner at the bar—that was their date. She had closed the bar and had even gotten a little dressed up for the occasion; she made enough food to feed Barret and Cid for two weeks. Maybe it was a little humbler than some might have wanted, but it was what they enjoyed and neither certainly minded the comfortable silence. But it wasn't the dinner that was particularly memorable.

They had been sitting the back, watching a crappy comedy on their newly-bought television. It wasn't even remotely funny, but they didn't mind one another's company and the two had even been able to crack a few clever jokes in between skits. It was pleasant to sit in the dark for once, and Tifa didn't find it the least bit awkward being alone with Cloud. He seemed to be enjoying their time together as much as she was—but it was Cloud and Cloud doesn't talk much. Therefore, he had never specifically clarified about it.

And then, when she wasn't paying enough attention, her hand gently fell on his when she was reaching into the bowl of popcorn. It seemed innocent enough.

However, the moment that her eyes fell against his electric one, she was drawn it. She put a small peck on his lips; a little less innocent but nothing wrong with it. And all he could do was to look at her with a perplexed facial expression; his eyes glowed more than normal in that dim room. Maybe that was how she could read his emotions, if she could do it no other way. But she had known Cloud for almost her entire life and she knew better than that.

And then he kissed her back. And it wasn't as simple as a little peck—no, it was…she supposed you could call it passionate. But she hated to use that word; she had always associated it with overly-romantic paperback novels that nobody liked to read. But that's what it was in reality, and she was willing to use it for the sake of the memory. It was almost intoxicating, he tasted like mint—from his gum, which, she was surprised that he even chewed in the first place—and a slight hint of red wine. She didn't attempt to put up any sort of a struggle as they sat there, kissing in the dark. It must have lasted at least a minute in a half, but it was pleasant and this specific surprise was one she honestly didn't mind one single bit.

_For a man who didn't speak too often, he sure knew how to make good use of that mouth of his._

She quickly snapped out her idle dreaming as she found herself standing nearly frozen behind the counter, earning a few sideways glances from her patrons. Cloud had removed himself from his former seat and was taking the dishes from a younger woman's table and placing them onto the edge of the far end of the counter. Tifa watched the young woman's eyes carefully; frowning slightly upon seeing those dark brown eyes following Cloud as he turned his back to her and set her glass onto the pile of plates.

But he wasn't oblivious. His eyes met hers, and then trailed back to the woman before they snapped back to Tifa. She laughed quietly and rolled her eyes as she pulled a slip from the register and pulled a pen from the glass jar beside her.

Cloud watched her quickly scribble something onto the back of it before she handed it to him. He turned it around to read her writing.

_Dear valued customer,_

_Mr. Strife's eyes are on his head. Not his rear end—so stop looking at it._

_Tifa_

He looked back at her with a comical look in his eyes. As much as he believed that it was better to be professional more often than not, but then again…he supposed that this was what she got some of her kicks from and the truth was that he was enjoying it himself. That woman had been trying to hit on him all night; he wanted to have said something half an hour ago but couldn't find the nerve. Tifa smiled at him and tilted her head in the woman's direction.

He walked to the table and held the receipt out for the woman to take. She gave him a yellow-toothed smile and leaned over, just enough to expose enough cleavage to make Cloud want to gag. But he kept a straight face and tapped the tabletop quietly with his finger as he briskly brushed past her and took a mug from an intoxicated man.

Tifa studied the woman carefully. She looked disgusted, much to the barmaid's pleasure and she couldn't help but take a small amount of pride in doing what she did.

Several minutes passed, and the woman continued to sit there with a pink face. But eventually she rose to her feet and made a few exaggerated steps to the main door. Looking back at Tifa, the woman's brows furrowed together and she made what could have been assumed to be what represented s scornful look. The woman's mouth moved, but no sound came out as she flung the door open and stormed out in a hurry.

_Bitch._

Tifa rolled her eyes and laughed. Cloud had seen it from the other side of the room as well; he was looking out of the window into the orange-lighted street, only to find the woman long gone. He twisted his head to Tifa and gave her a smile.

Smiles looked good on him.

"…Can I have another drink, pleeeasse?"

The barmaid reached into the fridge behind her and pulled out a cool glass. She took three bottles of various alcohols and artistically blended them together before she slid it down the row of people and watched a man who had already had one-too-many to drink. But she didn't mind messing with another rowdy customer tonight. As long as it wasn't another woman giving Cloud googly-eyes, she'd throw out drunks _all _night if she had to.

Because, after all, she _was _Tifa Lockhart—world-renowned martial artist, hero, and bartender. And nobody looked at Cloud with that look in their eyes.

Except her.


	8. Of Velvet and Quiet

Soooo...I'll just be upfront and say it right here and now-I had absolutely _no _idea where I wanted this to go. I just rolled with the 'silence' prompt from a friend and went with it. xD But, I figured that I'd jump around a bit and just mix it up a little. So, I hope you like this; as always I like hearing from you guys and it really helps out a lot. So thanks.

Enjoy!

* * *

He had always been silent. He didn't say much as a child; a chocobo had more to say than him most of the time.

But she didn't mind.

He wasn't very good at words, even when he _did _bring himself to speak. If he had something to say, he kept the amount of verbal inquisition to a minimal. And, as of the past year or so, his stuttering and loss of words had increased as well.

But she always knew what he was saying—or at least trying to get at. It was something he certainly admired about Tifa; always had.

He wished that he could show it like every other guy could. But he couldn't, and he had come to accept the fact as was and deal with the cards he had been handed.

It had been a year today—a day that, for once, was easier for him to remember for once.

And here he sat now, looking into a pair of wine-colored eyes that glittered in the yellow light. These chairs weren't particularly the most comfortable; being too high for the both of them with their knees pressed against the bottle of the table—but it beat sitting on the couch in the backroom, which, as of last week, had its frame snapped in two after Tifa left five large crates of alcohol stacked upon its worn cushions. So, yet again, Cloud Strife made due with the cards he had been dealt. Not that being two feet away from said room made any difference; he could still smell the rough, gritty scent of rums and liquors.

Tifa was always patient, too. Most would have certainly lost their nerves putting up with his shit—but she didn't. He wasn't about to deny that he knew that she hadn't at least thought about it once or twice, but she had never been willing to leave his side. She never given up on writing when he was in the army, even if he had stopped a year before he landed up in Hojo's laboratory for all of those years. She had given him all of those letters that had been returned back to her on his birthday—he hadn't said much about them, but that was the best birthday gift that he could have ever received from anybody. He had read them all in one night; his eyes were sore the next morning, but it had been well worth it.

_Dear Cloud—_

"…You're home early," She gave him a kind smile and played with the edge of her napkin idly.

He nodded slowly, his eyes never straying from hers.

_You haven't written to me in a while. Is everything alright? I hope that your training is going well._

She took a sip of her glass of wine. "How did your deliveries go? I remember seeing a few receipts on your desk a few days ago—you had a lot to do today."

_I don't know how many letters I've written to you. I've lost count, haha._

Tifa had always been optimistic. He wasn't sure if it "bothered him" was the right thing to say, but when they were younger he never understood how she was able to keep herself so cheerful. But now it was just another quality that he yearned for; one he wished that he had himself. He gave her a small smile. "I left earlier this morning to get home sooner. You know I wouldn't miss your cooking."

"Would you now," She laughed quietly and took another taste of her glass. "But you're right—you've been coming home earlier and earlier lately."

"Just can't stand being away for too long."

_When do you think that your basic training's going to be over? I'm still looking in the newspaper every day to see if you're in it. I know I'll see you again someday._

She set down her glass and studied his eyes carefully. "…Why?"

The corners of his lips rose. "Do you really think that I'm going to leave you alone for that long?"

Roses budded upon her cheeks and she flicked a shaft of her coffee bangs from her face. "…I don't like it when you're away for weeks, you know."

"I'm getting better," He chuckled beneath his breath; though it was somewhat forced. "I don't like being away…from you, like I said before."

_Papa's been elected the mayor in the town. He doesn't know I'm writing to you…he still doesn't really like to think about what happened. But I don't think that he really hates you, Cloud. I think he just gets angry about it because he's my father and I guess that's just what dads do. I'm sure he'll get over it eventually._

Her eyes never left his. Cloud could feel the heat rushing to his face. He was doomed.

"…Do you remember what today is?"

He remained silent. He bit his lower lip and then pursed it into a thin line. Electric eyes remained unblinking.

_I'm sorry if these letters are getting a little annoying—I just want to make sure that you're doing alright. Maybe sometime, I'll ask your mom to make that banana bread that everybody loves so much and then I'll send it with one of these letters. I care about you; always know that._

She looked so beautiful. She did every day, really; although today it just seemed to radiate from her like the sun radiates heat. Her eyes seemed to glow just as much as his did, and her face looked so calm and kind—welcoming towards him as they sat at that humble table. But expressing it was still something he was working on. He had tried it once, but it came out as a mangled, stuttered-out "you look nice". But she had taken in grace regardless and that earned him a kiss on the cheek. He knew he didn't tell her that enough, but he always made sure that she knew it, at the least.

_Johnny asked me to go to the water tower with him yesterday, but I said no._ _I miss hanging out with you; you're the only boy here that was really nice to me and treated me like a girl._

"…You do remember what today is…right?" Her voice was soft and was now uncertain; she was insecure about not only him but herself as well.

She usually had problems believing in herself, but perhaps that was because she was one of the few girls in Nibelheim growing up and she was definitely the prettiest. But it brought him a little solace to know that because of him, she felt differently about herself at times—like she could do things that she couldn't have thought to do before. And they did it together; no more lone wolves.

_I suppose that I should probably get going—I think that dinner's almost ready. But I'll write another letter soon, and you know that I'd always like to hear from you again, haha._

But he couldn't let her be sad, now. He didn't react well to her being down, but on the other hand it taught him how to give better hugs. And kisses—those, too.

_Love-_

He took another sip of his wine. Nothing like a little liquid courage—considering he had absolutely none of his own at the moment. This most certainly wasn't looking good from her view—just another guy who forgot another important date.

"Cloud…"

He lowered his glass and looked up.

Her hands had stopped fiddling with the napkin while her eyes had fallen to the table top. Her own mouth was no longer smiled him—a thing that was beginning to bother him more and more with each passing second—and the blush had dissipated as well. Her voice remained quiet. "It's the day we started dating."

He took in a deep breath.

_Tifa_

Reaching into a pocket, his hand emerged once more with closed finger and he rested them upon the granite. Regaining her full attention; his electric eyes met hers and kept locked. A silent communication between the two sent her hand out to allow her fingertips to meet his with an upturned palm, and his fingers contracted to reveal a small, velvet box.

Cloud smiled that sheepish little smile that was sincerely and only his. "…I know."


	9. Notice

*sigh* Thank goodness for that word generator-my brain's run out of prompts that I could be using right now. D: My apologies if some of these chapters are somewhat dry-I've been a bit stressed out with other things and writing anything has been put on the backburner, at best. But hopefully I'll be able to get back around to it soon, so wish me luck. xD You know that I love to know what you think of my chapters-so keep on reviewing! It's a big help.

Enjoy!

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Soft humming filled a vacant bar as the sun spilled out onto rough, pale hardwood and well-worn and washed tables. Chairs creaked quietly as they stood atop the counters, and silverware clinked while water sloshed in an old dishwasher on one side of the back counter. Skilled hands moved across black granite with a dirtied rag and with it, the humming increased ever so slightly.

Wine eyes lifted to the clock above.

Three o'clock.

Cloud would be coming home soon—he didn't have too many deliveries today and had decided he had no reason to stay out any longer than necessary. Spring on the Eastern Continent was finally coming around; although the roads were still slick from cold rain and Cloud had keep Tifa sitting on pins and needles entirely for the past three months. She needed to convince him to get a car—or at least something with more than two wheels. And a sidecar on Fenrir wasn't going to count.

Hurried footsteps above allowed a small smile to encroach upon the barmaid's face. Small shouts and giggles followed, and the sound of doors opening and closing behind one another and walls settling as frames did so.

She missed him though. She missed the sound of the bell above the front door jingling at eleven at night, and the sound of boots struggling to keep quiet on rickety flooring as they snuck up the narrow stairs. She missed that quiet voice that could make her relax and feel simply at him in an instant. And she missed his touch—the feeling of warm, handle-worn palms taking her fingers beneath them and closing against them whenever they felt cold, even cracked, dish soap-worn hands were no match against his. Not that she minded at all.

She rubbed an arm beneath her eyes before chuckling softly to herself. She woke up late this morning and picked the first shirt she saw in a rush—it smelled like him, though—probably because it was his to begin with. He had worn it a few days ago and she had meant to wash it; although it fell from the top of the ever-growing pile of laundry and she had never bothered to pick it back up. And, resting her head against her own shoulder, she realized that maybe grabbing the wrong shirt wasn't so bad. At least it wasn't _too _big on her. Come to think of it…she might even start wearing his shirts more often. It smelled like him. And he smelled good—like fresh air, grass, leather, and a hint of motor oil…it was fitting. And it was perfect.

Cloud gave good hugs, too. It was such a strange mixture of traits…embraces, and Cloud in himself. But it was the way things were, and yet another thing that Tifa didn't mind taking advantage of. Kissing was an entirely different matter, however; not necessarily one that was above-the-table appropriate at times. But she supposed that she could use a relatively welcoming hug—the bar was empty and standing on already-tired feet was exhausting as it was. She hated sounding needy, but she had needs just as everybody else on this planet and she figured she may as well voice them on occasion, because at least somebody was willing to listen. But Cloud had been listening to her from the very start, anyways; whether he consciously acknowledged it or not. But he always knew what she was talking about; there was not eye contact or lifted heads required. And she liked it that way, because she knew that Cloud was _always _listening to her and the children.

Her eyes lifted upon the soft jingling of a bell and footsteps; similar to those she could just strain to hear every night if she paid enough attention to it. Garnet orbs met sapphire-jade eyes and that warm smile that was just Tifa's grew once more upon her face as she swiftly slipped out from behind the counter.

The blonde ran a quick hand through thick gold locks and returned the woman's kind smile with one of his own. He laid down an undelivered package onto the table and outstretched an arm. Tifa allowed him to pull her against him with a strong grip circling her waist and buried her face into his warm shoulder. "…Welcome back."

"Glad I'm back," A soft chuckle passed his lips as he allowed his other arm to wrap around her fully and press her closer. "…It's cold outside."

"But," Tifa laughed quietly and drew back slightly; however she remained locked in his arms as he refused to let go as easily as she presumed. "I thought you never get cold, Cloud."

Cloud rolled his eyes and flashed a quick grin. "There's only so much I can take, you know."

Tifa picked the package up and examined it carefully in her hands. "Well then I guess you aren't going to be able to keep me warm tonight when we're watching that movie with the kids," She stopped and gave him a small smile. "Like you promised."

He drew her back against him gently. "I never said that."

"Denzel and Marlene are going to happy to see you—they must have drawn a thousand different things for you while you were gone," Her finger lightly tapped several pieces of paper that laid spread across a table.

Cerulean eyes followed her shadow of a form as she slipped past the counter and dug in the fridge for something before she lifted four plates, skillfully and swiftly spreading them out among four separate seats.

"Where is everyone?"

She pointed to the clock looming above her head. "I closed early today. Figured you wouldn't want too many people hanging around while you and I were together."

Blonde eyebrows lifted slightly. "…Why?"

Tifa laughed quietly to herself and held two thumbs to her chest. "…Because of all of the shit they'd give you."

"I guess," The hint of a sneaking smirk danced upon Cloud's lips as he examined various crayon drawings, "but that's what I'm here for in the first place."

She smiled. "…To take bull from people?"

He shook his head and gently wrapped his knuckles against the table's worn and well-scratched wood. "To kick the ones out that do."

Tifa shrugged and gave him another quick grin before she turned to the stairs and held up a hand to her mouth. "…Come down you guys, dinner's ready."

Silence. The footsteps had stopped several minutes, as did the voices that accompanied them.

Cloud took the drawings and folded them together before he shoved them into his jean pocket. He stood alongside Tifa for another few minutes before he held a hand to her face to quiet her before he made his own way to the landing and peered around the corner. "…Denzel, Marlene."

Nothing.

Tifa stared at him with a perplexed face. "…They always come down when _you _call them," She laughed. "They get more excited to see you."

He bit his lower lip and, after much contemplation, opened his mouth. But then closed it.

She looked at him. "Hmm?"

"They like it when I get them to come down," He ran another uncomfortable hand through his hair before continuing, "because I'm not as home as much as they want me to. And I wish I could tell them how sorry I am for that—I wish I could explain to you how sorry I am that I can't be here as much as you'd want me to."

The barmaid had nothing to say for several minutes. She pulled the lid off of a pot boiling on the rusty stove and scooped a generous amount of peas onto her plate, then less on his, and then even less on the children's. Cloud kept his gaze relatively locked on the stairs; although it occasionally shifted between said stairs and the certain woman to keep a view.

"They know that you have to go out and work—I know that, too. You shouldn't apologize for something that can't be helped," She gave him a smile and patted the bar stool beside her as she sat down. "They'll come down when they get around to it."

He took the welcomed seat and pulled the warm plate closer to his chilled hands. "But you know that I still hate it."

Tifa picked up a fork and stirred her rice around into a pile of various vegetables. "I know. But you've been taking more and more days off—you have no idea how much I appreciate having you around here."

He gave her a small smile upon reminiscing about thrown-out inebriated men and woman who got just a little too touchy around him. "…I noticed."

The two sat in silence as they picked at their food mindlessly and sipped their respective glasses.

"…I was thinking about taking tomorrow off, Tifa."

She looked at him. "That'll be nice. I'm sure that the kids will find something for you to do for them."

He chuckled softly, more to himself than to her. "Marlene wanted me to bring home flowers for you yesterday."

"Did she?" An amused grin spread across her face.

Cloud nodded. "…But I thought that was a little too…" He stopped as he struggled to find a fitting word.

"…Cliché?"

He nodded once more.

"Well, if it helps," Tifa smiled and nudged him gently with her elbow before she slid her stool closer to his and rested her head gently upon his shoulder. "I _do _like flowers. But you don't need to get me any. I don't need them at all, because I have you. And having you is definitely more useful than a vase of flowers that one of the drunks would just break." She laughed.

Cloud said nothing initially; although soon he found his face growing hot and he was sure that she could see it. "You know I love you."

Tifa gently squeezed his arm and placed a soft kiss against his lips. "…I noticed."


	10. Asylum

Not much to say about this chapter. It takes place at the very onset of Deepground entering Edge, which means it takes place during Dirge of Cerberus. Cloud comes home and finds somebody in need of some help. Enjoy!

PS. Remember, I like my reviews. c:

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He had known it had been a bad idea to stay here.

Rushed footsteps pounced against worn floorboards and soon a form slumped to the ground beside a blob of near-unrecognizable flesh resting on the ground with their back pressed firmly against the red-stained wall. His arms extended outward and effortlessly lifted the broken figure against his own warm body; where his back leaned against full shelves of plates and other various dishes behind the dark counter.

"…Tifa?" A gentle, yet firm shaking followed shortly thereafter.

But she wouldn't listen to him; she refused to leave.

The heap of a person didn't stir initially, but after a few prolonged moments soft coughs followed quickened breathing.

He waited. He could hear his heart pounding against his rib cage; if it got any faster it'd throb right out of him.

"Tifa, wake up."

Two burgundy eyes sluggishly fluttered to life, and with it that pounding heart in his chest. His knuckles held her closer until they turned a pale shade of white. His own eyes skimmed over her crumpled body in a flash; although he found it hard to distinguish the difference between her blood and where the gaping holes in her body formed by a precise blade began. He lifted his knee to support the weight of her frame and gave her another small shake. "You're hurt."

She didn't move against him as a whole, but he watched as her slender fingers rose to brush the side of her thigh and then to the right half of her abdomen where a majority of the blood pouring out onto the floor was coming from. Her hand quickly drew back and she let out a shrill screetch, clearly stating her pain and discomfort of such a large hole in her body. Her joints locked as she was afraid to move; the wound was much larger than the both of them had come to realize and suddenly the delivery boy was so much more aware.

He lifted her closer to him and rested a gloved hand halfway from the small of her back. The crimson wound stretched from nearly one side of her lower abdomen to the other; a sight that he had come all too accustomed with in many years previous. He tried to look away and to her blanche face. "What happened here?"

The young woman shook her head slowly; her eyes remained squeezed shut as another wave of nauseating pain radiated forth from her injuries. "She never told me who she was…she had—"

Tifa stopped as Cloud's forearm came into contact with her significant wound and she let out another sharp cry. He quickly pulled his arm away from her and let his hand rest against the lower end of her back.

"She was tall—taller than me," She continued on despite the intensity of her pain. "She had this red skirt that covered her back, but she didn't have much on other than that…her hair was a dark red, sort of…"

Cloud pulled the hand on her back from her and tugged the black glove from it with his teeth. He replaced and did the same with his other before allowing that one to resume its former location on the stretch of exposed skin behind her shoulders. "…Did she say anything to you?"

Tifa shook her head once more. "I didn't want to say anything because she didn't…she didn't look right at all," She cringed. "She had this…this smirk on her face and I knew that she wasn't going to do a-anything good."

The blonde reached to his right and opened a cabinet beneath the sink. He dug around for several minutes before he lifted several small, white dish rags from the top shelf. He turned back to Tifa. "I'm sorry…this is going to hurt a bit."

Before she had any time to protest to his actions, his hand full of rags pressed firmly against her injury and flashes of red and white danced before her vision as yet another scream of agony escaped her paled lips. She could fell his fingers digging into her bicep as he struggled with the suggestion of allowing her spiral into more pain, all by his hand.

But he didn't draw back. He let the palm of his hand press against one of end the slash wound before slowly moving across to the other end and making his way to the center towards her navel. He frowned and his face fell closer her hers as his head turned at an angle. "I'm sorry—you're going to bleed to death if I don't get it to stop."

"Cloud…" Her hand slid again to brush against the tips of his calloused fingers.

He stopped the pressure for a moment, but kept the rags on her. "I can't stop," He bit his lower lip. "I'm sorry, Tifa."

She winced and gave him a painful smile. "It's alright…"

His hand slid to the pit of her arm.

_Wait._

Cloud stopped his ministrations and laid the bloodied rags down. "…Tifa?"

She opened her eyes.

"…Can you hold on for me?"

Tifa blinked slowly. "Hold on…?"

His right hand slipped to the crook of her legs and the other took her wrist and pulled her arm around his neck. He carefully rose to his feet and carried her to the closest table, where he sat her onto one of the chairs and allowed her rest her head onto the edge of the table. "I'll be right back, Tifa."

She said nothing, but let her eye, hidden behind her damp, coffee bangs gaze at him. She watched as he disappeared behind the wall and his boots hurried up the narrow stairs from the landing. A door closed upstairs and, after a few minutes, she could hear his muffled voice speaking to somebody over the phone. Her ears felt like they were stuffed with cotton; she felt like absolute crap. The gash continued to leak her crimson blood and it throbbed painfully. She dared not to move; her body was locked in detrimental pain. Tifa knew she only had a small matter of time before she would black out and Cloud wouldn't be able to wake her up—she was going to bleed to death.

Several minutes later, Cloud came back downstairs and turned the overhead lights to the bar. "…Sit up."

She couldn't move. It all hurt too much—she shook her head weakly.

His hand outstretched and she could feel it fall against her shoulder; it pulled her upright rapidly but gently nonetheless. She winced as her wound widened slightly and her hand instinctively feel upon it as if to protect it from the impending pain that was to come. "…Don't hurt me…"

Cloud knelt before her and stopped. He opened his mouth to speak, but soon found himself struggling to find the correct response to such a statement. After a moment, he collected himself and gave her a faint smile. "I won't. Now stay up."

"I'm tired…" The last syllable dragged out for all it was worth. She sounded like she normally did after a long day at work; it made him laugh quietly.

Cloud retrieved a small, glowing orb the size of a tennis ball and held it in front of his face. It's electricity sparkled against the contrast of the similar shade of jade in his own eyes. He looked to her. "…Yuffie gave it to me. I figured I'd be able to find a use for it someday."

Tifa let out a small exhale and a feeble cough before she pressed her hand closer to the cut. She pushed him away with her free hand.

He held the orb in front of her and slowly moved it lower until it was within inches of her wound.

"Stop—" She let out a harsh warning; her once-dull eyes were now alert and glaring at him were ferocity.

The sight was strangely amusing. He knew he shouldn't have been laughing; she was bleeding to death as they spoke—but that look was one that she gave the kids after they had taken a cookie from the jar before dinner, or knocked over a pile of plates, not one that she ever gave him. He chuckled softly and held the material closer to her. "I didn't even touch you, yet."

"It's going to hurt," Her voice was soft and her eyes had done the same as well. Warm tears were beginning to burn them and she tried her best to hide them; although they were growing increasingly apparent as her breathing faltered and her voice cracked with each word she spoke.

Cloud frowned. "…I'm not going to hurt you. It's going to fix this; you're not going to bleed anymore if you just let me do this," His eyes glittered, and with the touch of his hand against her shoulder, she gave him a weak smile.

"…Alright…"

He watched her for a moment longer before he took the Heal materia and carefully pressed it against the edge of her gash. With the soft whisper of the word that threatened to cease to exist, the orb glowed and hummed with power and soon, the entire wound was glowing with a vibrant, pale green that glittered in the evening sun. She was no longer hurting; the wound only tingled as they both watched her skin spread and connect once more as it had been previously.

After a moment, Cloud rose to his feet once more and set the dull orb down onto the table. "…I told you that wouldn't hurt."

Tifa gave him a tired smile and held onto his hand. "Thank you."

The materia was unable to replace blood loss. She was still pale and her smile held little strength to it, but he knew that she was grateful for his swift actions and ability to react to such a calamity.

"Anytime," Cloud turned to the wastebasket and threw the orb into the trash. "I can't use this anymore, though."

"I know that you only use your material in emergencies," Tifa frowned slightly and let go of his hand. "I'm sorry."

He gave her a small shrug and returned her frown with a small, significant smile of his own. "I'll just get some more off of Yuffie—she owes me for all of the times I let her take mine."

Tifa laughed softly and closed her eyes; her head tilted back against the back of the chair. A warmth pressed against her head and she smiled slightly. "She owes all of us for letting her steal our materia. I wonder if she still thinks we don't know about it," Cloud's abdomen was pressing against her forehead. She opened her wine-colored eyes once more to find the young man giving a slight lean over her; his gaze met hers and she let their lips brush for a moment as he acted as if he had to lean further to pick something from the table. She let out a small sigh. "…Who were you talking to before you came back down here?"

"Vincent."

She blinked and pulled herself to sit upright again. "…Vincent?"

He nodded and leaned against a barstool, five feet away from her. He folded his arms across his chest. "He knows who the woman was who came in here," His eyes shifted to the pools of blood on the floor behind the counter and spattered across the wall.

Tifa ran a bloodied hand over her face and swept the bangs from her face. "She was wearing a uniform—or what looked like one anyways," She bit her lower lip. "She had this…sword. It didn't look like any of yours, though. It was really long and I didn't see it until she pulled it out from behind her…"

"Her name's Rosso the Crimson. She's a member of the Tsviets," His eyes darted between Tifa and the ground. "They've been running around, destroying anything and anybody they can get their hands on."

She tapped her index finger against the wood of the table. "You don't think she was looking for me because she knew I was connected to you?"

He shook his head. "The Tsviets are a small group of elite soldiers—part of a bigger army called 'Deepground'. They aren't looking for me."

"I heard about them on the news about two weeks ago…but I didn't think that they would get this far. How does Vincent know about all of this?"

Cloud paused. He licked his lips and pulled the chair out beside her with his foot before he sat down into it. His eyes fell upon her hand, where his own fingers brushed against hers and soon were found resting atop of. "It's…complicated. I can't get into too much detail with it right now…"

She swallowed and gave him a small smile. "…So you aren't angry that I tried to pick a fight with Rosso?"

He let out a soft chuckle and closed his eyes for a moment. "I never said that. But I'm glad you didn't die, too."

Tifa rested her head in the fold of her elbow.

"…Where are the kids?"

"Barret took them this morning with him; I think he took them to Elmyra's."

"Good."

"…Why do you ask?"

He turned to face her fully. "You didn't want to leave, Tifa."

The young woman shrugged. "I didn't really know what Deepground was—only heard stories about it. I didn't think that they would make it all of the way to Edge. Nothing ever eventful has happened around here since the Remnant fiasco."

"I told you that it wasn't safe to stay," He frowned; contemplated pulling his hand away from hers. But he stayed where he was. "And you wanted to stay here at the bar. Do you know how many people go in and out of here? One of them can be a soldier for all that you know. Nobody knows much about Deepground—you could be staring one in the face everyday."

Tifa stayed quiet.

He took in a slow inhale before letting it out through his nose. "…I just don't want you to get hurt like this again, Tifa. You almost died today—if I didn't come home when I did, you'd probably be dead right now."

She nodded slowly as she forced the stinging warmth forming in her eyes back. "…I know, Cloud."

"It was stupid."

Tifa blinked and looked up again. He was looking straight on at her; the luster of the glow in his eyes had increased nearly five times. She couldn't help but feel the need to shrink further back into her chair. Cloud kept to himself, and the word 'stupid' coming from his mouth was foreign and in all honesty, sent chills down from the base of her neck.

"You didn't have anything that you needed to protect. You should have just let her take what she wanted to take and let her go."

"…So it's not worth trying to save the bar? I know that the kids weren't home and they weren't there to protect—but don't you think that I work awfully hard to keep this bar in working order? I'm proud of this place…I'm not going to let somebody ransack it just because they can."

"It's foolish," His voice fell flat and dark.

"It's called 'honor'. I'm not going to let people walk all over me and make me do whatever they want. Just because she's a Tsviet doesn't mean that I don't have the right to whoop her ass."

"That's the thing," He tapped his foot against the ground impatiently. He didn't like arguing with her—not one single bit. "You have the right, just not the power."

"Oh," She chuckled bitterly. "So you don't think I can do it?"

"I didn't say that, but you're not the one who was created to fight."

Tifa blinked. Her eyes narrowed and the wrapping of her fingers along the tabletop stopped. "…Created?"

"Tsviets are monsters, Tifa. Most of them weren't born and raised like we were. Rosso was created for the sole purpose of creating a soldier that could do anything and everything that normal people can't do—not even people treated with mako."

"…Like you."

He nodded. "They've been trained to fight all of their lives—there's no compassion for human life in their heads. They just kill and kill and kill and probably don't really know why."

Tifa's head lowered and she frowned. "…So they aren't like us?"

"Well, obviously." The tone in his voice rose slightly.

She lifted her head.

"I don't know too many people that can mess you up that badly," He gave her a faint smile from beneath his gold shafts of hair. "I didn't think a normal person could do that to you, anyways."

She blinked and, after a full minute, returned the gesture. "…So are you mad at me, Cloud?"

He took in a breath and shook his head slowly. "It was stupid of you," He paused as his gaze met his, "but I don't think that I can be completely angry at you for it. I've done worse."

Tifa laughed quietly.

"But," His tone grew somber once more and he knelt before her. His face was mere inches from hers as she twisted her chair to face him and she placed her hands against his firmly. "We can't stay here right now, Tifa."

A tear trickled from her eye and cascaded down her cheek. She gave him a sad smile and pressed a soft kiss against his hand, resting against her face in an attempt to brush the tears away. "…I know."


	11. Clarity

Ugh. This chapter is so depressing and angsty, I'm not really sure what compelled me to write this exactly. It's not _exactly _a drabble (due to said depressing-ness and whatnot), but sometimes I get tired of all of the cute and mushy little drabbles and stories and I don't know...I guess I just felt the need to balance out the sweet and the tragic. There's been some unfortunate events in my life recently (thankfully, none of them pertaining to the particular subject of this story/drabble), but they are sad nonetheless and maybe that's why I sat down and began to write this. I hope you forgive me for going off track a bit.

And as always, I love my reviews. They've been lacking a bit lately, but I'm going to keep writing because I find pure entertainment in it xD, and I'm still holding out hope that this will get more reviews soon. So PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE. Feel free to review/favorite. If you have any prompts you'd like me to write about, I'll be willing to take it. c:

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…_Click._

A lock's tumbler twisted and turned—a usual occurrence as, at the same time nearly every night, blonde spikes shifted and snuck their way past two, thick glass doors and his heavy boots were pulled from his feet and tossed to one side of the bar. Next came a lightweight leather jacket, and self-protection weaponry followed suite. His footsteps were slow and unsteady; heavy against worn floorboards and his knuckles rapped against the granite countertop, where a corner caught his pale skin and blood trickled to the floor from the edge. But he paid no attention to his wound—there was an already voluminous amount of other things on his mind.

He ascended the narrow stairway and found himself standing in the equally incapacious hall. He turned to the left, careful not to bump the small car seat resting stationary at his feet. Swallowing quietly, he gently tapped a wooden door and pressed his face closer to the frame for a better listen. Nothing responded; she was asleep. He looked away and gently nudged the small seat to the top of the stairs before taking several smaller steps further to another room on the same side. Two empty beds.

…Elmyra must have taken them.

He quietly cleared his throat and turned back out of the bedroom; closing the door behind him. He stood facing a slightly smaller room, where a modest lamp sat atop a white dresser and a new, modernistic door was set in place. He bit his lip and cautiously made his way towards it; careful not to create too much of a ruckus as he maneuvered past other various movables. His shoulder hit the doorway; he winced where a bruise had been laid only days previously—a week at the most. The boundaries between each day were blurred and he wasn't sure if it was Monday or Friday.

A crib was in one corner of the room; hidden behind the door when it was fully opened. His hand slowly outstretched and twisted the lamp's switch; the room fell dark and moonlight spilled out into the newly-installed windows.

…Something squeaked.

His gaze fell to the floor, where a small, plastic object laid trapped under his toes. Slowly, he lifted his foot and pulled the object to his face.

A blue teddy bear. The corners of his lips rose, ever so slightly and he tucked it firmly beneath his arm before he rose back to his feet and continued on further into the nursery.

Cloud took a seat in a polished, white rocking chair resting stationary in a corner of the room facing the night sky. Slowly nudging the chair back and forth with the heel of his fatigued foot, his gaze carefully scanned the nursery and he let out a soft sigh.

…_Mr. and Mrs. Strife?_

He pulled a picture frame sitting atop an end table several feet away and stared at the happy couple sitting on a bed, grinning at an equally happy baby. He smiled slightly; it was perfect. Everything about this, although not originally in his intentions for life in the long term, was simply unmarred and indefectible. He wouldn't exchange it for the world.

He placed the picture back and bowed his head against the back of the chair. His eyes closed.

_It would appear that your son has an advanced form of bone cancer. _

Cloud's head tipped to the side, and he watched dark gray puffs of cotton float above the moon. He frowned and looked down to the deep blue teddy bear resting snuggly in his hand.

_This _shouldn't have happened. He was happy; Tifa was joyous. The children had been jubilant—they finally had what they could call a baby brother. But, of course he should have known that nothing bringing contentment into his life could last.

He could have been a bone marrow donor—he _wanted _that. But the doctors had told him that the amounts of mako in his bloodstream would have been fatal to an infant of that age. Neither of the kids were compatible; nor was Tifa. There was nothing that they could do; their son was on the bottom of the list and there was no way that a bone marrow donor was going to be found in time for their son to survive. They had exhausted all possible treatments; chemotherapy and radiation was still too many drugs and exposure to dangerous substances for him to handle.

His eyes burned; his lowered lip quivered slightly and it was becoming harder to breath with every second. He buried his face into the teddy bear's synthetic fur and within only a matter of seconds, hot tears trickled from his eyes and he was shaking.

_No, no, no._

He cried. The tears didn't stop; he couldn't control himself anymore. He was tired of putting on his strong face when he was silently breaking on the inside—he had to be strong for the rest of his family in such a time of distress. He wasn't supposed to look like this; it was his job to hold her tight because, in the end, she needed it as much as he did. But he never cried in front of her—she must have thought he was a heartless bastard for showing no emotion when the doctors gave them the diagnosis.

He took in a sharp gasp as the air within his lungs was completely withdrawn and coughed sharply into his hand. His muscles could no long maintain stability and he was almost completely shaking, now—his soft breaths uneven and sporadic as his emotions began to drown him.

…Footsteps.

He no longer bothered to meet their eyes as they stood in the doorway. And they came closer and closer, until he could feel their warm breath against the back of his neck, and the crack of their stiff knees as they knelt closer to him. Their own, soft voice cracked and their arms outstretched to cradle his head in their arms.

"…There's nothing we could have done, Cloud…"

He shook his head and choked quietly on his own lack of breath. "I could have saved him, Tifa. I could have done _something_—he'd be alive right now if I wasn't so fucked up."

The young woman shook her head slowly. Her voice broke; he could feel her own tears falling upon the top of his head. A stray tear fell from her eye fell to his face. "That's not true. You're _not _fucked up. You are who you are; if you were anything less I would suppose that I just wouldn't love you the same anymore," She stopped and strangled on her sorrow. "Storm is gone, now. We can't do anything to bring our son back. He's better off now; he's not crying like he used to, remember?"

The blonde remained still as he recalled his son's wailing in the middle of the night; not a baby's normal crying for attention. It was sheer _pain_, something that nobody could surely even conjure up in their mind. His son was crying because he was _hurting_, all over and he knew that it killed both him and Tifa both. And there was nothing else they could do but give Storm pain medication; nothing else but to sit and wait for what they knew would become inevitable. And that was what deepened their wounds the most.

"Storm's with Aerith, now…right? And she'll take care of him, he'll wait for us to meet him again with her. And Zack's there, too, Cloud. He's not so alone, he's with all of our old friends now," Tifa covered her mouth as she let out a painful, high howl as she thought of another person holding her child for the rest of her life.

Cloud lifted his head. His cries had subsided; although he was still shaking and breathing was still an effort for him to pull. He looked at her and he shook his head slightly. "…They aren't going to keep him away from us. They're still here."

His arms, wrapped around her waist, carefully pulled her closer until she was sitting against him. Cloud laid his head upon her shoulder and he allowed himself to succumb to the warmth, the press of her body. He bit his lip. "This isn't fair."

"None if it was fair, Cloud," She held his head against her and gently played with the hair on the bear, "but if life was fair…then I suppose that we wouldn't have had anything to fight for."

"I _wanted _this. This was what I wanted more than anything," His cerulean eyes met her wine ones. "This was all I ever needed."

She gave him a sad smile and wiped yet another stray tear from her face. "…And I need you. I always will, and I'll always need the memories we had with Storm. If one day we're so old together and I can't remember anything anymore, I'll always remember this past year and I'll know that my life was everything that I had ever hoped it would become," She wiped the streaks from her husband's face and pressed a soft kiss against his forehead and sunk lower, further into his chest. "So I'll always remember the good times we had with our son, and I know you'll do the same." She flashed another tired, bittersweet expression.

Cloud reached for her hand and gently squeezed it. "…You know I always will."

She rose to her feet and took the teddy bear from his hands. "This was his favorite, you know."

He nodded slightly. A small smile crept onto his face and he swallowed. He was completely exhausted; his eyelids were struggling to stay up and the black was beginning to envelope the edges of his hazy, irritated vision.

Tifa placed a kiss against the bear's indigo fur and carefully positioned it against a small pillow in the crib. She turned back to Cloud and veiled him in her dark hair. "Let's go to bed. You need some rest."

Cloud took her outstretched hands and allowed her to pull his weight, where he stood and took a moment embrace her snug to his frame. "…What are we going to do with all of this…?"

She let out a quiet sigh and her eyes narrowed slightly. She closed them and pressed her face into his chest, taking in his scent that was only his. Although in tragedy, she took in the simple moment where she could just let time slip away and not give a damn. "We might keep some of it; maybe…maybe one day we'll be able to try again. But not now."

He nodded slowly and allowed her to lead him away. He twisted back and, giving one last look at the nursery, closed the door behind him.


	12. Puppy Love

Ugh, the "Error Type 2" is so frustrating. I know how to get around it and all, but I have to change the summary/rating on this story as well as a few others and I'm getting _reaaaaalllly _frustrated with the whole "you can't do this BLAH-BLAH-BLAH-BLAH." c: SO. I'm pretty much stuck on this story right now; I don't have the slightest idea what I'm going to do with "Your Heart is an Empty Room" right now (I'm a little embarrassed; I can't believe that I was so obsessed with song-fics back then xD). I may just delete it and then redo the sequel to "Sanctuary" (which is what "Your Heart is an Empty Room" is) completely from scratch, so to speak. But if you have any ideas about salvaging that, feel free to read "Sanctuary/Your Heart is an Empty Room" and let me know, 'kay? xD That'd be lovely. c:

This chapter is my take on when Cloud and Tifa first initially met as children. Feel free to read/review-I'm open to anything you've got to say! A'ight? Thanks. c:

Enjoy. (:

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Two small, pale-cream hands gripped the corner of a strong, red brick foundation and a mess of dark hair spilled over a pair of tiny shoulders. A pair of wide, garnet-red eyes peered around the corner to where a tall, slender young woman was stepping from her worn truck. The minute shadow craned further to view the stranger.

New people were so strange—nobody new almost never came around. Only visitors—traveling vendors or wanderers searching for some quick money during the spring and summer. But this woman didn't have a trailer attached to her truck, nor did she have boxes and boxes of possessions to sell. She only had a few wooden crates of small, personal-looking items held tightly in her arms. The little girl pulled herself back from the dark, looming build of her home and sat down on the dirt curb to watch the petite woman further.

The girl watched as she went back and forth, back and forth, back and forth from her apparent new home and back to her truck, each time taking in a new crate full of more things. The girl tilted her head and saw several articles of furniture; each one a matching shade of light green. They looked heavy; maybe she should help the lady out. The little girl rose back to her feet and ran over, her hair bouncing and flying wildly in the warm breeze. She stopped several feet away from the truck and waited silently for the woman to return from the inside of the vacant house. Her heart fluttered as the young woman approached a handful of minutes later and returned back to the bed of her vehicle.

"…Excuse me?"

The woman's bright green eyes darted from the right to the left and then back again before they fell upon the little girl standing a few feet below her. Although perplexed, she gave the girl a kind smile and rested her arm against the side of the truck. "Yes?"

The little girl fidgeted in her spot, with her hands twisting into knots and her feet digging sheepishly into the dirt. "Do you need help with anything?"

The woman raised a blonde eyebrow and glanced to the side to her possessions.

"I just live right there," the girl's small finger pointed to her house, neighboring the woman's new residence. "I don't think that my mommy and daddy would mind too much if I helped you carry a few things."

The older woman tapped a small box with one of her long, slender fingers and smiled. "You know what? I think that you might be able to carry this into my house for me," she pulled the cardboard article from atop numerous other boxes and carefully handed it to the smaller girl. "It's just some of my son's things. I'm sure he wouldn't mind you touching them too much."

The little girl looked up to her elder with wide eyes. "…You have a son?"

She nodded slowly. "He's in the truck. He's a little shy, but I think that once he meets some other children, he'll start acting friendly."

The girl stood on the tips of her toes to try to get a better look at the inside of the cab, but the woman gently patted her on the back. "…How about you get those things into the living room, first? It's going to start getting heavy soon if you don't put it down somewhere."

She quickly brushed past the woman and pushed the creaky, wooden door aside without a second thought before placing the box full of toys, blankets, and books onto the top of a table. She ran back out and ran her small fingers through her thick, tangled hair before continuing towards the woman.

"…So are you going to live here, now?"

The woman turned to her and blinked. She said nothing at first, but then slowly nodded and gave her a minuscule smile.

"We don't hardly ever see new people move in here."

"Don't you?" The woman knelt before the little girl and her smile spread. "Well then, I guess you already know that I don't have too many friends around here yet. Do you want to be one of my first friends?"

The little girl nodded her head affirmatively and gave the woman a toothless grin.

The older female chuckled softly and held out her hand. "I'm 'Lisle'. And what might your name be, sweetheart?"

She gently took the woman's hand and shook it. "My name's 'Tifa'. My mommy named me that because she said that was her grandma's name."

"Well that's a very pretty name," Lisle rose to her feet and brushed a piece of bright blonde that had strayed from the messy bun atop her head. "You've also got a very pretty blue dress."

"Thanks," the girl grinned and played with one of the straps. "My mommy made it for me a few weeks ago."

"It's very nice," Lisle pointed to one of her green couches and then to a man in denim, button-up overalls standing on the far side of the town circle, next to the inn. "…Do you think that he could help me move some of my big furniture? My son's too small to lift anything heavy yet."

"Is he still in the car?" Tifa looked back to the dusty windows of the vehicle.

She nodded. "He's still a little angry. I don't think that he really wanted to move here. But I'm sure that if you talk to him for a bit, he'll want to play with you."

The smaller girl ruffled her light blue dress around her boney hips before she glanced past Lisle to the man, still standing where he had been before. "…He runs the inn. He's really nice; I bet he'll want to help you move your stuff."

Lisle turned on the heels of her sandals and waved to him. "…Excuse me!" She caught his attention, and disappeared behind her truck to where she met the man at the side of the inn. Tifa turned to the truck and her head fell to the side.

…Should she talk to Lisle's son?

He didn't sound very friendly. Maybe he was too old to play with her. Maybe she should just leave him alone; he didn't sound like somebody that liked talking to kids like her.

But she wanted to know what he looked like. Maybe he was really tall like his mom, and maybe he had bright green eyes like she did. Maybe he was like one of the big kids—her mind was reeling with possibilities as to what this new addition to the town was like. Tifa took in a deep breath, and stomped her way to the passenger's door before she valiantly grasped the chrome handle and pulled with all of her strength.

…She blinked.

That wasn't so bad.

She lifted her head from behind her mess of chocolate hair and was met by two deep blue eyes that looked like they belonged more on a piece of her mother's jewelry. This boy was not like she had pictured—with blonde spiky hair that matched the shade of Lisle's, and scrawny and small limbs that carried hardly enough meat on them. His skin was fair like hers, and those luminescent cerulean eyes were something that she would have never been able to create in her mind. He didn't look very tall, not much taller than her and his clothing seemed a little too big for him, as his white tee-shirt and his denim shorts seemed to sag from his small waist. But she couldn't just keep staring; he was going to think that she was _really _weird if she just kept looking at him like she was stupid.

"…Hi."

The little boy looked at her with those large, perplexed eyes. He remained silent; and to his chest he held tightly a dark brown stuffed dog with a light blue ribbon tied to its neck. He quickly turned away from her and his yellow hair obscured her view of his face. His voice was that of a hair above a whisper. "…Hi."

"My name's Tifa," She gave him a wide smile and bounced on her toes lightly. "…What's your name?"

Again, his voice was soft and he shifted in the leather car seat uncomfortably. "...Cloud."

Tifa fidgeted with her hands again. Boy, was he sure hard to talk to. After a strange moment of silence, she pointed to a large, puffy white cloud floating freely above their heads. "...Like those clouds?"

He nodded slightly; his eyes refused to meet hers.

"How old are you?"

The blonde boy lifted his head—his eyes finally lifted to view her and a soft pink began to spread across his face. "...Eight."

"I'm seven," She pointed to his stuffed dog. "What's his name?"

Cloud looked to the toy held tightly to his chest, and, after a moment, shrugged. "I dunno. He doesn't have one."

Tifa snorted. "You can't just _not _give one of your stuffed animals a name, you know."

His eyes shot up and gave her a nervous look. The girl could tell that he was becoming frightened; she lowered her strength of her voice and shrugged slightly. "I mean, I could help you give him a name if you want."

He was quiet for a long while, but then finally looked fully to her. "Like what?"

She sat down onto the grass beside the truck and folded her legs beneath her. "…What about 'Fluffy'?"

The boy's mouth twitched and he shook his head. "...I don't like that name. It sounds girly."

"What about 'Okie'?"

Again, he shook his head.

Tifa hummed softly and she bit her fingernails as she tried to conjure another name. "I think 'Garp' would be a funny name, don't you?"

Cloud shrugged and he petted his toy's fur. "…I like 'Taz'."

She blinked and gave him a smile. "I like that name. So his name is 'Taz', now!"

He nodded and held the dog tighter to him.

Tifa outstretched one of her minute hands and grinned. "…It looks like it's really hot in that car."

The boy thought about his movements for several minutes before he cautiously held out his own tiny hand and she helped him down from the high seat. His scuffed tennis shoes hit the ground with a solid _thump_. She then led him to the grassy side of the road and watched him sit down, following suite.

"…So what's your favorite color?"

He played with the dog's ribbon silently. "…Blue."

"Mine's blue, too," She lifted a part of her dress to his face. "See? Like my dress."

He gave her a teeny smile and nodded slightly.

"What's your favorite food? Mine's spaghetti—my mom makes the best spaghetti in the world," Tifa giggled.

Cloud glanced toward his mother, who was now instructing two men as to where to place their couch. "My mom makes really good mashed potatoes. Those are my favorite."

"Have you ever had ice cream, Cloud?"

He gave her an affirmative nod. "…I like vanilla."

"You should go there," the girl pointed to a small shop to the left of them. "That's where the town's ice cream shop is. I should take you there sometime; I bet you'd really like it there. The man who owns it makes the _best _ice cream. I like his strawberry ice cream the best."

Cloud bit his lip and followed her finger back to where the others on her opposite hand sat in between her knobby knees. "…What is your mom's job?"

Tifa blinked. "My mom's job?"

He gave her a timid nod.

"My mommy doesn't work—she stays at home," Tifa pointed to a shining yellow car next to her house. "My daddy works, though. He takes pictures for the town newspaper. He really likes his job."

"Oh." Cloud's voice fell quiet once more and his head lowered.

"…What does your dad do?"

The blonde looked at her with unsure eyes, and he frowned. "I don't have one."

She cocked her head to the side. "…You don't have a daddy? Where is he?"

"I dunno," Cloud squeezed Taz tightly to his chest. "My mom said that he died when I was really little. I don't remember a whole lot about him, though. I think that I sort of look like him. That's what my mom says a lot."

"Then where do you get money for food and stuff?"

He pointed to a broom sitting on his front porch. "…My mom cleans peoples' houses for them for gil."

"I don't like cleaning," Tifa giggled. "I guess there needs to be somebody to clean the houses."

Cloud laughed quietly. "Yeah…I guess so."

"…Tifa!"

The small girl turned; her hair whipping the tip of Cloud's youthful nose as she pivoted to face in the opposite direction. A man was standing in the doorway of her house, with similar dark hair and a white shirt with overalls hooked to his chestnut-brown pants. Tifa's hand fluttered above her head. "Yes, papa?"

"Your mother made lunch-Come in and eat before it spoils!"

Tifa stood back up and smiled down to the young boy. "I've gotta go, now. But I'll see you later, right?"

He blankly stared and nodded.

"Okay," Her smile grew and she gave him a shy wave. "I'll see you later, Cloud."

Cloud watched as Tifa ran to her father, who took her by the hand and led her inside with a smile on his face. He squeezed Taz and turned back to his mother, who was approaching him from the driver's side of their truck.

She pulled him to his feet and brushed off his rear end before she wrapped an arm around him and led him to their new home. "So, was Tifa nice to you?"

He nodded, and his cheeks grew a familiar shade of pink. "…I like her. I think she's my new friend."


End file.
